


Orange Blossoms

by fmpsimon



Series: Sensation [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Romance, jeankasa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmpsimon/pseuds/fmpsimon
Summary: Jean has been watching her for months, trying to work up the courage to speak to her.  Is today finally the day?  Modern AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a series of jeankasa drabbles, related to the senses.

The air was chilly as he walked to the bus stop that morning.  He was glad he had remembered to wear his scarf.  He checked his watch, and then stuck his hands in his coat pockets.  He still had time.  He ducked his head and quickened his pace.  When he reached the bus stop, he sat down, just as he always did.  He was the only one there, but he knew she would be coming.  She always did.  He glanced at his watch again.  Any minute now.

And then he saw her from across the street.  Her bright red scarf was unmistakable.  She hurried across the street and sat down next to him, same as she had done every day for the past several months.  He had not spoken to her yet, other than mumbled greetings.  He was awestruck by her beauty: her silky black hair framed her face and delicately fell over her shoulders, with bangs that hid her dark eyes.  And, god, she smelled amazing, like orange blossoms in the spring.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she folded her arms and shivered.  She wasn't wearing a coat, he noticed.  Maybe he should…

"What are you staring at?"  She was looking straight at him and, more importantly, he was still looking at her.

"Erm, I, er," he stuttered.  "Nothing."  He turned away, blushing.  But after a moment, he turned back to her.  "Can I--can I offer you my jacket?"  She glanced at him sidelong, and her eyes were barely visible behind her bangs.  She was gripping her arms so tightly that her knuckles were white against her alabaster skin.  He scratched the back of his head.  "It's just, I could see you shivering, so I thought--"

"I'm fine," she snapped, interrupting him.  Her tone was even chillier than the autumn air.

He clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed.  This is _not_ how he wanted their first conversation to go.  He shoved his hands back into his pocket and looked in the other direction, hoping the bus would come and end this travesty.  Relief washed over him when he saw the bus, and when it pulled up, he let her get on first, like he always did.  He slumped down in the seat.  The relief was gone, replaced by misery and disappointment.  The girl of his dreams hated him--she thought he was a creep.  And he was, wasn't he?  The way he always stared at her, but never spoke.  This had been going on for months, but he was always too scared or too dumbstruck to say a word.

The bus stopped to let more people on and he stared idly out the window, contemplating his miserable existence.  Someone sat down next to him and he edged closer to the window.  He breathed in and his nostrils were filled with the smell of orange blossoms.  His eyes flicked up.  It was her.  He was horrified.  What was she doing?  Why had she moved?  Why was she sitting there?  Was she going to shout at him?  Was she going to beat him up?  He'd seen that.  He recalled the morning her purse had been snatched.  Of course, _he_ had been too shocked to move, but she had chased down the thief with amazing speed, tackled the man, and taken back her purse.  The guy had limped off with two black eyes and a warning to never do anything like that again.  "I'm worse than the cops," she had said.  "You don't want to run into me again."  Then again, he mused, it wouldn't be _so_ bad to have her physically assault him.  She'd knock him to the pavement, then hold his arms down and...

But here she was, looking at him, her eyes warm now.  He shook himself out of his reverie.  "Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he croaked back.

"About how I acted earlier...I'm sorry," she said.  Her tone was much softer, and he realized she wasn't going to pummel him into the ground.  "I'm always crabby when I don't get my morning coffee."  Her cheeks reddened slightly and she gave him a small smile.  "I'm Mik--"

"Do you want to get some coffee?" he blurted out.  Her lips parted in surprise.  He breathed in sharply.   _Idiot!_  "Erm, Jean."  He extended his hand and she accepted it.  He resisted the urge to melt and slide to the ground.

"Mikasa," she said, with a smile.   _Mikasa…beautiful_.  He sighed inwardly.

Jean let go of her hand.  "Would you like to have coffee with me, Mikasa?" he said more calmly, though his heart pounded in his chest.  His hands felt clammy and cold, and he felt beads of sweat forming at his brow.  This was his shot, his one shot.  If she said no, it was all over.  He would have to move, of course, or go out of his way to find a new bus line.  But that was nothing in comparison to the embarrassment he would feel if she rejected him right now.  On the other hand...if she said yes...His breathing was strained and ragged.  Was it possible that only a few seconds had passed?  It seemed like ages since he had asked her out.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and averted her eyes for a second.  "Okay."

 


End file.
